The Tranquil Vintessa

When I was reading Women Who Run with the Wolves, I felt a deep sense of nostalgia for a simpler time. A time when people existed with intention. When everyday rituals carried meaning, and even the smallest moments of the day felt sacred.

I think that’s why memories from the past often feel so warm. Life seemed slower then. Things weren’t done simply to check off a list or complete a task as quickly as possible. There was care behind them. Presence. A certain kind of magic.

One of the ways I’ve been reconnecting with my femininity is through the art of polishing myself and remaining presentable. Somewhere within the hustle of everyday life, I lost that part of myself, and I felt the absence of it deeply. I would rush to get ready, leave the house feeling anxious or irritated, not because I was upset, but because I felt disconnected from myself. Self-conscious. Unprepared.

So I began slowing my mornings down. I created small rituals around getting ready instead of treating it like another obligation. I started caring for my clothing again, steaming wrinkles, inspecting details, making sure everything felt intentional.

I noticed that when I took my time, I felt calmer leaving the house. More relaxed. More confident.

Now I sit at my vanity and move through my skincare and makeup slowly, adorning myself in front of the mirror the way my foremothers once did. Morning and night, I anoint myself with soft oils scented like comforting vanilla. My favorites lately have been Nativa Spa’s Body Oil and Pride and Beauty’s After Shower Oil. They leave my skin glowing like morning dew. After a light mist of my favorite room fragrance, I’m finally ready for bed.

Beyond grooming, I’ve also been trying to reintroduce gentle moments of solitude into my life. Quiet rituals that allow me to simply be with myself again.

One of my favorites has become evening walks at dusk, when the stars are only beginning to twinkle, and the moon starts her journey across the sky. There’s a softness to that hour. A stillness that makes the whole world feel as though it’s preparing for slumber.

During these walks, I don’t allow distractions. No headphones. No scrolling. My phone stays tucked away in my pocket while I fully immerse myself in the moment.

Afterward, I return home and curl up with a book. I used to rely heavily on audiobooks, but I realized I still wasn’t slowing down. I was listening while multitasking, scrolling, cleaning, or drifting elsewhere mentally.

Now, after retraining myself to sit down and truly read again, it has become one of my favorite parts of the day. Curling up with my pup, a good book, and soft lofi or jazz playing quietly in the background feels like such a gentle way to end the evening. And of course, there’s always a warm drink nearby.

I think the reason these vintage rituals feel so nostalgic is that they hold us so tenderly. They remind us to care for ourselves, to move more slowly, to savor life instead of rushing through it. Somewhere along the way, many of us forgot how to do that.

But we can always return to it. Our womanhood is still well within us. We simply have to slow down enough to hear it speaking again.  

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